


Three Times Enjolras Was Annoyed by Mooning and One Time He Joined In

by BirdieDell



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: 3+1, Arguing, Halloween, I think the immaturity is really my own, Immaturity, Mooning, More Mooning, Poor Enjolras, Some Fluff, Teen and Up just bc of language, and butts, ice hockey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-25 09:04:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12527816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdieDell/pseuds/BirdieDell
Summary: Basically, the Amis find that there are a number of situations in which mooning is really a very satisfying option.





	1. Grantaire Finds His Bottom Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire knows how to settle an argument with Enjolras.

Enjolras had been working for weeks on his speech against gerrymandering for the upcoming rally and voter registration drive, which was now only a day away. 

Combeferre had helped by creating several computer generated models of how the American election of 2016 would have turned out had the lines of various districts been drawn differently. Enjolras could now rattle off an impressive list of statistics backing up his arguments without even glancing at his copious notes, which usually ended up wadded in his passionate fists anyway, about halfway through his spirited speech.

“Get some sleep, Enj,” said his boyfriend Grantaire, who was curled under an afghan on the couch, putting the finishing touches on a sketch of Enjolras's stern profile. “Come on,” he encouraged, shutting the sketchbook. “I'll massage your shoulders and play with your hair.”

“This is important, Grantaire,” Enjolras scoffed. “It's a pivotal issue facing our democracy! The people drawing the lines are driven by racism and greed! Look at this model from Wisconsin!” Enjolras plucked a paper expertly from the middle of a pile.

“I know!” Grantaire waved the paper away, yawning. “I'm just saying, you'll be more coherent if you get some rest!”

“I'll be more coherent if I can more clearly convey how this district,” here Enjolras punched the map with his finger so hard that the paper shot through the air and landed on the floor. He didn't miss a beat, continuing, “...only includes a small section of a mostly minority neighborhood just because they want to split the minority vote into...”

“I get it! I know! And it's so unfair! But SO IS what you're doing to yourself right now. I know you haven't slept in two days, and you've had about fourteen cups of coffee a day. Think of your goddamn blood pressure, you idiot.” 

“I am thinking of my blood pressure!” Enjolras railed. “I am thinking that my blood pressure is absolutely nothing compared to the plethora of issues that are impacted by gerrymandering! Everything from education, to access to healthcare, to--”

“Oh, please! I know all this, Enj.! Hello! I made all those signs for the rally, didn't I?”

Your signs said 'Bury the Gerry!' How is that going to persuade anyone? It doesn't tell them a goddamn thing about the complexities of this issue!”  
“Ha! Like you know what persuades anybody except the liberal elite! You and your big words and fancy education!” 

Now Grantaire was just arguing for arguing's sake. He knew it, but he couldn't stop himself. It was like he was a high speed train running off course with no brakes. So, of course he had to take it a step further. Rising from the couch, he made his way towards Enjolras.

“I mean, no one even cares about your stupid arguments anyway! Gerrymandering isn't a sexy topic. People only care about the petty things that the media distracts them with so that the real issues stay buried. They care about how much Melania spends on her shoes! Or if Trump misspelled something!”

“That's ridiculous. Grantaire, if you don't have any faith in the intelligent citizens of our country...” started Enjolras, but he was cut off by a smirking Grantaire.

“Ha! I have faith alright! I have faith that they're probably more interested in your *ass* than in gerrymandering! Heck, they're probably more interested in *MY* ass than in gerrymandering!”

And just like that, Grantaire turned and dropped his drawers in one quick movement, showing Enjolras his complete ass.

Enjolras sneered.

“I am not engaging with this! You are the most immature person I know!”

But Grantaire was already cackling his way down the hallway, every bit confident that he'd won this round.

And Enjolras had to admit, it was hard to argue with Grantaire's ass.


	2. Shine On, Shine On Harvest Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Courfeyrac's birthday AND close to Halloween, so it was bound to happen....

Courfeyrac's birthday was the week before Halloween. He always threw spectacular costume parties to celebrate the day, and this year was no different. Not one single inch of his apartment looked in any way normal, right down to the spiders scattered in the cutlery drawer.

Grantaire had procured several mannequins from the Art Department and now various bloody limbs were sticking out of cabinets, couch cushions, even the tank of the toilet. 

Combeferre had donated several educational skeletons to the cause, mostly human but also an impressively large dog skull which was now filled with sour patch kids candy and was sitting on the coffee table.

The shower was splattered with fake blood, as was basically the whole kitchen.

The horrible image of a killer clown peered in from the window by the fire escape.

The rest of the apartment was completely filled with motion-activated toys, so much so that if a person simply tried to cross the room to get a beverage (as Enjolras was now doing) the cacophony of spooky sounds was enough to make a person reach for the Tylenol instead.

“Try a Candy Corn Martini!” offered Bossuet, who was squirting a row of sickeningly bright orange drinks with vodka whipped cream. 

Courfeyrac walked over and opened his mouth wide, receiving a complementary squirt which he quickly gulped down, licking his lips and laughing. Bossuet tipped the can towards Enjolras, as if offering him a squirt too, but Enjolras shook his head. Could anything be grosser than vodka whipped cream?

“What's this?” he asked, picking up an innocuous looking foamy concoction with just a hint of green.

“Green ghost,” Bossuet answered. “Mostly gin. You'll like it!”

Enjolras removed the fake bloody finger from the side of the cup and took a sip. Yeah, it would do.

“Thriller” was then blaring and almost everyone began improvising dance moves, based entirely on having watched other people improvising dance moves, since probably no one in the room had seen the original video. There was lots of creepy kissing, biting and grabbing going on. 

Grantaire and Eponine were dirty dancing while making godawful zombie faces at each other, earning a lot of applause from the others. Grantaire had had so much to drink that at one point a particularly jerky dance move caused him to spiral across the room and plow bodily into someone, which luckily turned out to be Enjolras who seized Grantaire by the waist and stood him upright again.

“Alright,” Enjolras murmured. “Slow down, R. I really don't want to have to carry you home two times in one week. Especially not when you're dressed as Aquaman coming back from the dead.” He tugged on Grantaire's gold sequined waistband and Grantaire in turn bit him on the neck.

“Let's take this party on the road!” declared Courfeyrac. “Come on, everybody, let's go down to Beacon Street and scare all the normal people!”

This led to a lot of cheering (no one denied Courfeyrac anything on his birthday anyway) and scrambling for coats and lost articles of costumery. 

Beacon Street was filled with fancy restaurants and there were plenty of sophisticated groups of people to choose from. Several times they roared “Boo!” at passersby, but there was so much giggling and groping going on among the group of friends that most people just gave the group a funny look and kept going.

“Oh, guys look!!!” Bossuet suddenly squealed, pointing into the large window of Adelina's, one of the top Italian restaurants in the area. “The Senator!” 

There were squeals of delight among the Amis, most of whom had been at a rally for healthcare outside the Senator's office earlier that year.

“Ooooooh, let's all go get a table right next to him and talk loudly about our healthcare woes!” tittered Bossuet, who had in fact racked up quite a bill recently from a trip to the ER for a broken arm that he was still steaming about. 

“They have a dress code, I think,” said Combeferre, squinting at the sign. “And it looks a little pricey.”

“Luckily!” grinned Courfeyrac. “He's right by the window, so we don't even have to go in!”

“Oh, I got it!” said Bahorel. “Let's all go moon him!”

“What?” squawked Enjolras, but the others were doubled over laughing and nodding eagerly. Even Combeferre had a slight naughty smile.

Enjolras started to give an impromptu speech about what studies have shown ACTUALLY causes people to change their minds, and how none of those studies ever suggested MOONING them as an effective strategy. 

But his efforts were in vain as the rest of the group was busily loosening their belts or taking off wings, capes and other costume parts that might interfere with a really good view of their backsides.

Before Enjolras could even say “Boo,” Bahorel had roared, “Ready, Set, GO!” and the whole gaggle of friends poured into the space in front of the restaurant window, right underneath a conveniently placed streetlight. 

A loud rap on the window from Bahorel caused the Senator and his equisite lady friend to look up from their dinner. 

The quietly dining couple was instantly rewarded with the spell-binding sight of a whole row of buttocks, all of which hovered in full view for two or three long seconds before disappearing into the dark night amid absolute howls of laughter.

The tight line of Enjolras's mouth matched that of the Senator's.

“Best Birthday Evah!!!!” declared a delighted Courfeyrac.


	3. Bottom of the Ninth, Only This is Ice Hockey, Folks!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Éponine's ice hockey game is so harrowing, Feuilly is forced to go for broke.

Ice Hockey season started with a bang. Éponine, Feuilly and Bahorel all played and the rest of the amis showed up for as many games as they could and cheered like fools.

It bothered all of them that the men's team drew throngs of fans, the stands so full sometimes they were sitting in each other's laps while watching (though no one wanted Joly in their lap because his butt was known to be the boniest). 

The women's games, on the other hand, drew only moderate-sized crowds, which all the amis thought was ridiculous because the women's team this year was fierce! There had been some moments during their games that were so harrowing, so wild, that the fans clutched perfect strangers to their bossoms, wept openly and, when their team scored, kissed with energy usually saved for the kitchen floor. 

And so it was during one of Éponine's games that Enjolras, Grantarie, Bossuet, Joly Courfeyrac, Bahorel and Feuilly found themselves clutching each other in a tense knot in the stands, watching as Éponine barreled through members of the opposing team to take the puck down the rink, only to end up colliding with a woman built like a wall who was protecting the goal. They slammed together which such force that Éponine flipped over the back of her opponent like a well-season rugby player, but the puck lost its course along the way and the score remained tied. 

“I can't watch!” gasped Joly. “This is too much! No one wants to let anything through! They're playing for blood!”

“Pass it! Pass it!” Bossuet was screaming, then there was a collective scream from the crowd as the puck ricocheted off the goal post again.

“I think I'm going to have a heart attack!” Grantaire shrieked, grabbing a handful of Enjolras's hair. 

Enjolras, who had buried his head in his boyfriend's shoulder during the last play, just let him grab away because anything was better than having to watch the other team score--

But NO! They didn't score! Someone on their side slid in out of nowhere and blocked the shot! Grantaire picked Enjolras straight up in the air in relief! 

The puck was on the other side of the field already, Éponine expertly setting it up, but she was surrounded on all sides by the wicked blue jerseys of the opposing team. 

Joly had jumped into Bossuet's lap by this point, bony butt and all.

“Goddamn it!” Feuilly shrieked, waving a fist in the air and nearly punching Enjolras in the face in the process. “Someone help her out!” 

Éponine toyed with the puck, weaving it in and out of her opponents legs until she could see a way out. Every heart in a five mile radius of the rink was beating double time. 

“Come on team!” screeched Feuilly, jumping up and nearly knocking Enjolras over. And then, in a moment of passion only a true sports enthusiast could relate to, Feuilly added desperately, “If you can pull this off, Ép, I'll moon somebody!”

In one swift hit, Éponine hurled the puck towards the red jersey just coming into view, and that player in turn nailed it right into the net.

The fans jumped to the air as a solid block of red and white!

Everyone that is, except Enjolras, who was treated to a very enthusiastic full moon just inches from his face! 

Grantaire guffawed beside him and then managed to smack Feuilly's spirited little ass before pulling his startled boyfriend into the safety of his lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta WahtaOwl who helped me with my hockey terminology, despite the fact that all her hockey knowledge comes from reading the webcomic "Check, Please!"


	4. Enjolras at High Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras will do anything for the cause, actually.

Enjolras, usually unfailingly optimistic, gave in to a little bubble of despair one evening as he laid his golden head in his boyfriend's lap and tried to watch 'Grease Live.'

“Grantaire, you've now watched this like 30 times already,” whined Enjolras. “Can't we watch something else?”

“Okay, okay,” Grantaire conceded, running his fingers through Enjolras's curly locks. “Let me just watch the drive in scene first! Then we'll find something to take your mind off the stupid announcement tomorrow.”

The governor was going to announce a new tax reform plan on the steps of the state capital, a tax plan that would benefit the wealthy and the corporations who had clearly bought seats in the statehouse. It was maddening. And they had probably purposefully scheduled it for a time when they knew most students would be gone and local residents would be preoccupied with holiday plans. It wasn't fair.

Enjolras sighed. 

He was worried about the counter protest they had scheduled for the next day at noon. It was terrible timing and not many people could make it. 

In fact, it was looking like only the 13 core members of their group could go since everyone else was leaving for the winter holidays. He counted again, just to be sure: Grantaire, Combeferre, Eponine, Courfeyrac, Bossuet, Joly, Musichetta, Bahorel, Feuilly, Jehan, Marius, Cosette and himself. No, still the same.

 

Enjolras wanted their small counter protest to gain some attention. But how when there were so few of them?

Finally, the last strains of Tveit pining away emitted from the screen and Grantaire shut it off, sighing happily, and gathered his boyfriend in his arms.

“You know,” he said. “We don't have to watch anything at all! I could distract you in other ways.”

“I know,” Enjolras admitted. “I wish I felt up to it. But I just worry that we're not going to be able to get the cameras to notice us tomorrow. They're probably just going to focus on the governor and his stupid lying face.”

Grantaire nodded. Yes, faces were indeed one thing to focus on. But sooOooOoo were--

“Hey, I have an idea!” Grantaire cried, reaching for his phone.

\-------------------------------------------

The next day Enjolras paced the floor. He was not so sure about this ridiculous plan. He was desperate, but not that desperate. 

He'd said he wouldn't do it, that he'd be the spokesperson instead. Every form of protest needed a spokesperson, right? 

His friends had been okay with that since Éponine pointed out that the spaces between words weren't absolutely necessary so twelve people would do. 

Everyone else was behind Grantaire's plan 100% and there was nothing he could do to stop them. They were now shrieking with laughter and running around his apartment while Combeferre (who, as a med student going into surgery, had a very steady hand) brandished the brush that came in the smudge proof body paint kit Courfeyrac had donated to the cause (“There are only three brushes but, hell, we're very VERY good friends, right?”).

Just as Combeferre was going to ask someone to paint him, his pager went off.

“Oh, dear,” he said, reading it. “Emergency surgery. They need me at the hospital!” He handed the kit to Courfeyrac. “I'm so sorry! You've gotta figure something out!” And then he dashed out the door.

“Well, shit,” said Éponine. “We already got rid of the spaces. Now we have to get rid of some letters. Or squeeze the l and the e onto Joly!” 

“I don't think it'll fit,” laughed Joly, who was already sporting a rather large o and p.

All eyes turned to Enjolras.

“No! Nope. I already said No,” he wailed.

“Okay! Okay! Calm down,” said Grantaire. “You'll have to do a little scrubbing down, but we can always say 'peeps' instead!”

“We are not saying 'peeps'!” exclaimed Enjolras, at the same time Courfeyrac admitted, “And this stuff is actually way hard to get off! I wasn't going to actually tell you guys that until later...”

A few glares were thrown Courfeyrac's way.

“Alright,” Grantaire thought again. “What if we rearranged a bit...”

“You guys, we have like 5 minutes before we have to go!” Marius said worriedly. “Are we going to have to call it off? What else can we possibly spell with this?” 

Enjolras was a fighter. He had never given up on a thing in his life. 

And yet, could he really go that far? 

He felt like he was between the devil and the deep blue sea. But as he thought of those cameras, all that possible exposure for the cause, and the governor's awful plan...

“Fine,” he conceded. “But Grantaire's doing mine.”

He crossed his arms with irritation and turned around. Grantaire grinned.

And so, roughly an hour later, as the governor stood in the middle of the wide steps of the state house and began delivering the details of his really very shitty tax plan, a group of twelve students marched behind him, turned around, and dropped their pants.

The entire viewing community was then able to read the message CORPORATIONS ARE NOT PEOPLE written in colorful bubble letters across the backsides of the amis, who let the message sink in for about three seconds before high-tailing it out of there.

There was much laughter about it later at the Mussain. And when Enjolras saw the press coverage and the explosion of support on social media, he decided it was well, well worth it.


End file.
